Bunkered
by frostygossamer
Summary: AU Dean has lived alone in the bunker since he was 11 years old. When a guy called Sam shows up will he trust him? My first attempt at a drabble series. WIP mild unrelated Sam/Dean. Complete.
1. 1 - Now

A/N: I just noticed that I haven't actually posted anything yet this year. So I've decided to try my hand at a drabble WIP story. I intend to update this frequently.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, its fandom, its characters or anything connected to them. I do not make money or profit in any way from this story.

**Bunkered (Part 1 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean taps his fingers on the countertop as the grinder chomps on its load of vacuum-packed coffee beans. It's 10am and, according to the perpetual calendar on the kitchen wall, he has been living alone in the bunker now for 23 years, 3 months and 27 days.

Luckily, there are plentiful supplies of coffee, and every dried or canned good you could ever want, shelved in serried rows downstairs in the lower lower lower basement. He will never need to risk going outside. Just as well, since whatever scared John that terrible night is probably still waiting.

OUT THERE.

TBC


	2. 2 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 2 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean pulls out the mill drawer and pours ground java in the coffee-maker. It's soon perking away happily, filling the galley with the delicious smell of morning. Dean takes a piece of toast from the ten-slice toaster and butters it thickly before shoving it in his mouth and crunching happily. Canned butter has a weird metallic taint but he's used to it.

He has had long enough.

He remembers John making toast THAT night, his big hands shaking as he buttered each slice, but not much else about that final night with his dad.

Except the journey there.

TBC


	3. 3 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 3 - Then) by frostygossamer**

The night was stormy. Dean lay dreaming of ghosts and cackling witches. Suddenly, his dad rushed in his bedroom and grabbed him up out of bed. John's eyes were wide and fearful. He jabbered incoherently about something bad, something coming. They had to get out and NOW!

Next thing Dean knew he was sitting in his dad's truck, still in his puppy-dog PJs. John drove like a madman, glancing over his shoulder again and again, like he expected to see - what exactly? - right behind them, hot on their tail. Dean tried but never got to see what it was.

TBC


	4. 4 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 4 - Then) by frostygossamer**

After a couple hours driving through a howling thunderstorm, rain lashing the windshield mile after mile, John's truck stopped abruptly, rammed into a muddy bank. His father dragged Dean out of his seat, down an unlit road and right up to an entrance set in a concrete wall buried in a hillside.

John fumbled in his pocket and brought out a fancy puzzle box. His fingers scrabbled to pull out an antique key and somehow guide it into the keyhole of the massive door.

John pushed Dean inside and slammed the door closed behind them with a solid-sounding THUD.

TBC


	5. 5 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 5 - Then) by frostygossamer**

Dean never did work out exactly what his dad was running from. John may have attempted to tell him that night, but nothing he said then meant anything much to the boy. What little Dean could still remember didn't make a whole lot of sense. All he had taken away was the sure knowledge that something dark and very scary was out there looking for them, looking to KILL.

They spent the hours until dawn in adjacent rooms on the dormitory floor. Not that Dean could sleep much with the sound of his father's agitated pacing echoing through the walls.

TBC

A/N: I'm glad you're all enjoying this so far. Lots more to come. :)


	6. 6 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 6 - Then) by frostygossamer**

As soon as first light broke, John was packing to leave. He took with him guns, ammunition, rations. Dean expected to be going along too.

"No, kiddo," his dad grunted. "You stay right here till I get back. Won't be more than a few days, a week tops. Stay safe. OK?"

Dean wasn't exactly happy about being left alone in this strange place. But John assured him the bunker, built and fitted out way back by his dad's people as a bolthole against the 'forces of darkness', was the only truly safe place for him to be.

Dean TRUSTED him.

TBC


	7. 7 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 7 - Then) by frostygossamer**

Why did John have to go? Dean never did find out.

John paused in the open doorway. "You open this door for NOTHING. You understand? You trust NO ONE. You hear?"

Dean nodded obediently. "Yes, sir."

John tousled his boy's dirty blonde hair. "Now don't you worry, kiddo. I'll be back real soon."

That was the last time Dean ever saw his father. 23 years, 3 months and 27 days he has lived alone, grown up, celebrated one birthday after another, and finally given up waiting.

Whatever it is out there, he has had to accept IT GOT HIS DAD.

TBC


	8. 8 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 8 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean takes his breakfast up to the library and plonks his butt down in a creaky chair, feet on the polished table. The perimeter monitors are on. He idly watches a couple rabbits make out in the long grass masking the entrance. Some guys have all the fun, huh?

He's dozing lightly when a tearing CRUNCH of metal assaults his ears, forcing him bolt awake. He sees in the monitor that there's an old clunker wrecked in the ditch out front, the driver slumped over the wheel. The guy looks normal enough from this distance.

Only maybe a little DEAD?

TBC

A/N: Aha! Who's this then?


	9. 9 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 9 - Now) by frostygossamer**

The sun rises to noon. Steam rises from the hood of the wreck. An hour passes. Dean needs to shift that hulk out of his entryway. Only it's outside. Maybe weeds will cover it eventually? It bothers him sitting there.

Back from a bathroom break, Dean notices something. The driver is no longer sprawled on the wheel. Agonized seconds changing camera angles locate the stiff laying in the shrubbery. Only he's not a stiff. He's moving, if feebly.

What's Dean supposed to do? Render first aid? Oh, sure.

He recalls his dad like yesterday, "You open this door for NOTHING."

TBC


	10. 10 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 10 - Now) by frostygossamer**

It's a trick. So obviously a trick. The dark forces that took Dean's dad want to lure him out of his safe haven to bring succour to some phoney accident 'victim'. Dean is SO not falling for that.

He paces the floor weighing up the odds.

OK, the guy does seem to be hurt. And he could be some regular Joe who had a bad day and lost control of his machine. Can Dean stand by and watch the poor sap bleed out right there?

Then again, that's EXACTLY how the enemy would want him to feel. Stay strong, Dean.

TBC


	11. 11 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 11 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean clicks off the monitor. Damn! He has got to stop being such a freakin' easy mark. Got to make John proud.

"It's a test, right? Dad, you testing me?"

It's getting darker. Going to be a clear night, stars bright. If he waits until morning the guy will be cold as yesterday's pizza and not a problem anymore. Switching off the library lights, Dean wanders off to his bed. Perchance to dream...?

"Not my responsibility, Dad. Most likely bought it anyway."

Ten minutes later he's loading a pistol and picking out handcuffs. Throwing on a waterproof, he's going OUTSIDE.

TBC


	12. 12 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 12 - Now) by frostygossamer**

It takes Dean almost twenty minutes to haul the unconscious and safely cuffed deadweight of the stranger to the bunker entrance and lay him inside on the tiles. He takes another quick scan around before closing the heavy door against the darkness.

He leans against it a moment, breathing hard. What did he just do? What the hell was he thinking? 23 years since he's been outside. Hell, he even forgot to take the damn key. What if he'd gotten locked out? Jeez!

The guy laying on the floor groans. Dean kicks him petulantly. "Dude, you better be worth this."

TBC

A/N: Part 12 already. Still a lot more to go. Sorry it's taking so long for the story to unfold but there's only so much you can cram into 100 words. :)


	13. 13 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 13 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean drags the guy down the stairs onto the hall floor. He lays there like a dead fish, arms limp and legs floppy. He's got to be close to six five in his shiny shoes. He's dressed like a salesman, cheap suit, conservative tie.

Dean prods him with the toe of his boot. He whimpers and coughs weakly. Cramming a throw pillow under the guy's head, Dean leans in close.

"Gimme a name," he growls.

The stranger stares up at him, eyes watery and vague. "'m Sam," he whispers and passes out.

Dean snorts. "Peachy," he says and walks away.

TBC

A/N: Did anyone have any doubts who it was? ;)


	14. 14 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 14 - Now) by frostygossamer**

When he surfaces again he's laying in bed in a cell-like room. Dean sits on a reversed chair, arms folded, a loaded gun in his hand. He points the weapon at him.

"Got a busted right arm and a gash in the head. Guess you'll live."

Sam shifts in the bed and lets out a groan. Everything hurts.

"Is this a hospital? This is NOT a hospital. Man, what IS this place?"

Dean laughs. "This is MY place, pal. I think you know EXACTLY where it is."

Sam is foggy. His head is swimming. "Can't remember a damn thing."

TBC


	15. 15 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 15 - Now) by frostygossamer**

After a highly uncomfortable night's - or was it day's? - sleep, Sam wakes to the crash of Dean barging in the door with a tray in his hands. He sets it down on the nightstand. On it there's a steaming bowl of unidentifiable soup, dry crackers and a spoon.

"Eat up!" he orders brusquely, already halfway back out. "Then come upstairs and I'll set that broken bone."

Sam scowls. It feels disturbingly like he's woken up in the movie 'Misery', cast as James Caan. Not good. Happily, the soup is palatable. What he manages to get in his mouth, that is.

TBC

A/N: It's got to be tomato-rice soup, right? ;)


	16. 16 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 16 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Setting that bone is an ordeal. It doesn't help Sam that Dean appears to be reading his methodology from an ancient tome that looks like it was hand-inscribed by monks. There are painkillers, and whiskey to chase them down, which help majorly.

Dean ties a scarf bandage around Sam's neck to take the weight of the smashed limb, and Sam can finally breath again without the use of his teeth. When his vision clears, he spots a circle of salt surrounding his chair.

"So what's that for?" he asks. "Got a freakin' slug problem?"

"You tell me," responds Dean.

TBC

A/N: Slugs. I hate 'em.


	17. 17 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 17 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean isn't sure what to make of this Sam guy. He doesn't look a demon. But how would a demon look? He sure doesn't give off an evil vibe. No damning reek of sulphur. Dean wonders if the salt was a move too far.

"So where were you headed? Before you made acquaintance with that ditch?"

"Headed? Around in freakin' circles, I guess." Sam's laugh is bitter.

Why so cagey? What is this guy hiding? Dean really doesn't need his crappy attitude.

"You'd better get your ass outta here stat, buddy." He angrily kicks away a little salt. "Beat it."

TBC


	18. 18 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 18 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam makes no attempt to leave the bunker.

"It's like this... I could use a safe place to hang a couple days. Let's just say I'd rather not be on the move right now. It can be scary out there."

Dean has to second that. Out there is where the scary things are. The scary things that took his dad.

So he pushes a bible into Sam's hands. Tooled leather. Heavy as a tombstone.

"Swear."

"Swear what?"

"That your soul ain't damned."

He does. The book fails to explode in his face.

His host extends a hand. "Call me Dean."

TBC


	19. 19 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 19 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam's in the shower room drying off. He's been here six weeks and the tension between his shoulder blades has finally loosened up a little.

A counselor would say, "Keep it up. You're doin' good." How long ago was that missed appointment?

Someplace else in the bunker Dean is happily frying thick slices of canned Spam and making scrambled eggs from dried egg powder. It tastes way better than it sounds.

Domestic bliss? Not exactly.

As he pulls on a 50s shirt and pants, Sam thinks, "It'd be too easy to stick around."

But that was never the plan. Right?

TBC


	20. 20 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 20 - Now) by frostygossamer**

There's a plate of Spam 'n' eggs on the Formica table in the kitchen. There's also toast in the big-ass toaster. Dean's loud munching echoes from the library. Sam eats his breakfast, elbows on the table, shovelling fast. Prison-style.

His busted arm is mostly healed. Well, near enough. He reminds himself he'd better wince sometimes, when Dean's around. He imagines his host is itching to kick his ass out the door as soon as.

But he's not QUITE ready to leave. Not yet. He doesn't want to run into this blind.

And things are starting to feel complicated.

TBC


	21. 21 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 21 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean spends each morning studying the bunker's perimeter monitors while he strips down and cleans his weapons. Sam watches bemused. Whose army does the guy think is marching on them exactly?

"Dude, is all that bullcrap spit and polish really necessary?" he innocently asks.

Dean shoots him a dirty look over the pistol he's reassembling.

"This place is a GARRISON. Out there is ENEMY territory. An attack could come at ANY time. I gotta be prepared. OK?"

Sam holds up a hand. "Hey, don't bite my head off. I was only saying..."

He wishes he'd kept his big mouth shut.

TBC


	22. 22 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 22 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam has had time to take a good look around the Winchester bunker. Pretty much everything you'd ever need. Dean's folks could have ridden out an apocalypse down here. He guesses Prohibition drove many bootleggers underground. Then whatever other rackets they got into.

The library is particularly impressive. First editions. And they seem to have illegally tapped into free water and power.

What's not to like? Sam could see himself settling in here. Why bother with Mexico?

And Dean? No wonder his dad wanted to keep him safe. He's the gem of the entire collection.

Even if he is deluded.

TBC


	23. 23 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 23 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam thinks Dean's an odd one. Two decades by himself? Sam would go crazy. The guy acts like he's manning the last outpost of humanity. Yeah, maybe he IS crazy.

Sam leans on the gallery rail watching Dean flick through a well-thumbed men's magazine. Busty babes in one-piece swimsuits and scarlet lipstick.

"There's a new thing called the 'internet'," he comments, wryly. "Free porn."

"Yeah?" grunts Dean below. "Maybe heard about it on my crystal set." Sarcastic bastard.

Sam skips downstairs and places his cellphone by Dean's elbow. "Battery's dead."

Dean eyes it. "Guess I can rectify that."

TBC


	24. 24 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 24 - Now) by frostygossamer**

While Dean fiddles with wire and alligator clips, a frown of concentration scrunches up his pretty-boy face. Sam watches him admiringly. Handsome devil. He guesses Dean favours his late mom for looks. Those pursed pink lips sure ain't John's.

Not for the first time Sam considers coming clean. He hates lying to this guy. He hates knowing more than Dean about John.

Then their eyes meet for an instant. A spark jumps between them.

No, it's not the right time to explode Dean's little fantasy world. He doesn't need the harsh truth about his father just yet.

If ever.

TBC


	25. 25 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 25 - Now) by frostygossamer**

"Guess you haven't found the laundry room?" Dean remarks, snapping Sam out of his daydream.

Sam feels guilty. He's been wearing mostly cast-offs he found in various closets in various bedrooms. The forties and fifties duds give him a dashing Cary Grant look. Dean? Hepburn in slacks? Randolph Scott? Ha! Don't go there.

Seriously, does the guy know he has a nice butt? Is he aware it seems to Sam like he's flirting?

Sam guesses almost a quarter-century alone will do that to a guy.

But, hey, if he's up for a prison romance, just say the word.

TBC


	26. 26 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 26 - Now) by frostygossamer**

"You ever think about going outside?" Sam asks, genuinely curious.

It's late afternoon. They're kicking back in button back armchairs on the balcony, sipping good whiskey.

Dean looks pensive. "Often. But I got my orders."

Sam narrows his eyes. "What exactly do you think is out there, Dean?"

"No clue." Dean chuckles, dryly. "But I DO know I wouldn't wanna find out."

Sam laughs. "Guess you've got the right idea, man. The world today is one ugly damn place. Ugly things live there." He swirls the liquor in his glass. "And there's one fugly in particular..."

Dean raises an eyebrow.

TBC


	27. 27 - Now

A/N: Hi, followers! Sorry I missed a couple of posts but I was hit by a nasty bout of sinusitis which rendered me totally incapable of typing, reading and such computer-related things. Hopefully I'm getting over it now.

**Bunkered (Part 27 - Now) by frostygossamer**

To Dean's mind, the world outside is infested with the demonic. He's pretty sure they were already hiding in all the closets and under all the beds before he even came here.

Which means he shouldn't trust anything he's heard on the radio. Nor that clunky old TV he found, while it still worked.

He does listen in sometimes, though. If only to hear the sound of another human voice. And NO, he isn't lonely. The novelty of having Sam around to talk to is just that, a novelty. He tells himself he'll get over it.

He's lying, of course.

TBC


	28. 28 - Now

A/N: Just when I got my sinuses under control my internet decided to play up. So I'll be posting twice tonight. :)

**Bunkered (Part 28 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean looks up from 'Ye Handbooke of Deviltrie'. He's sitting up in bed in rather fetching white pajamas. Sam stands in the doorway of his bedroom, a dark shape against the hall light. How long has he been watching?

"I wanna ask you something," he says.

Dean puts down the book. "What?"

Sam sighs deeply and leans heavily against the doorjamb. "You believe in revenge?"

Dean considers. "In principle or...?"

"Example: Would you want revenge on the son of a bitch who took your dad?"

Does he really need to ask? "Hell yeah!"

"O. K." Sam disappears into the passage.

TBC


	29. 29 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 29 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam is already pounding the internet when Dean drags his messy head out of bed the next morning.

"Whatcha doing there, Sam? Booty surfing?"

Sam grins briefly as Dean drops in a chair across from him with a hot mug of java.

"Searching for signs."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Signs of what?"

"Of a black-hearted devil with a scorch mark for a soul. Caleb gave me a clue."

"Caleb?" The name means nothing to Dean.

Sam doesn't elaborate. He swivels the monitor they hooked up to his phone and jabs at the screen.

"Got him! He's right... THERE!"

TBC


	30. 30 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 30 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam doesn't want to go. There are worse places to wind up than a self-contained Eden with a housemate like Dean. But this is for Dean too.

Dean watches him holster a handgun with mixed feelings. This outsider wasn't part of his world. Now? The bunker was never meant for sole occupation. Would he ASK Sam to stay? No way.

He hands Sam a sawed-off. "You'll need this too." He jerks his chin. "Rock salt."

As Sam takes the shotgun his fingers brush Dean's, and Dean suddenly wants to hug him, a soldier leaving for war.

But no.

TBC


	31. 31 - Now

A/N: Posting a bit late this time. But better late than never.

**Bunkered (Part 31 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam's smashed up wreck lies rusting under the brushwood Dean tossed over it. He leaves the saltgun there and resolves to hitchhike into Lebanon.

He doesn't know if he'll be coming back. Logic says get the job done and slide over the Mexicano border, never look back. For some reason, though, he knows he's not going to find Dean so easy to forget.

In Lebanon, he picks up a prepaid cell in a store - he let Dean keep his smartphone - and a package of fresh fruit. Canned fruit is fine but he's missed the crunch of a juicy green apple.

TBC


	32. 32 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 32 - Now) by frostygossamer**

It takes Sam three days to hitch to his destination in Ohio. Another day and he has the name of every preacher in the area. Thanks to Caleb, he learned 'Pastor' is no alias. The monster is a 'man of God'. Go figure.

It's evening when his rental pulls up at a stone-built house on the edge of town. A chill wind blows his hair around as he steps down. He tugs his jacket tighter, shivering, and on impulse texts Dean.

_erie lake house. last one tonight. back with you in couple days._

Yeah, maybe he IS going back.

TBC


	33. 33 - Now

A/N: For those of you finding yourselves confused, that's intentional. This is a **_mystery_** and all will be revealed by and by.

**Bunkered (Part 33 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam pockets his cell and turns his attention back to the house. It looks innocent enough. There's even a sweet old lady rocking on the porch. He approaches, wearing his best disarming grin.

"Ma'am, would this be the home of Pastor James, uh..." He consults his notes. "...Murphy?"

The elderly woman smiles. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. The Pastor passed away last year."

When he sighs and puts away his notes, she gets up and beckons him indoors.

"Would you like a cup of tea, young man? You look thirsty."

Sam hesitates for a second before following her inside. Why not?

TBC


	34. 34 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 34 - Now) by frostygossamer**

When Sam comes around, he's rope-tied to a chair. The cellar is dark, one high narrow window roughly boarded over. The old woman has lost her salon-pink wig and is now looking distinctly less ladylike.

"Shame. The updo kinda completed the look," comments Sam.

He spots a clerical collar under the drag. Surprise, surprise. Pastor Jim. And the Pastor has a pistol in his hand.

"So who are you, friend, and whaddya want?" he growls.

Sam chuckles. "Got a message for you from John Winchester. Time for you to pay."

The guy's expression sours. Yeah, he remembers John.

TBC

A/N: Sorry about recycling Pastor Jim as a bad guy here. I wanted a name from John's past and a holy man gone bad sounded like an idea.


	35. 35 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 35 - Now) by frostygossamer**

"Freakin' cop killer!" growls Sam.

The Pastor has the blood of a bunch of honest officers on his hands. The FBI has been on his tail for a decade. Cop killing is his trademark. He's one scary dude.

Like a modern-day Moriarty, he's a psychotic mastermind of crime and a slippery fish. He plans his heists like Thomas Crown, no name, no face, no questions. He relishes the hands-on thrill, taking a life the frosting on his cake.

The Pastor grins evilly, leaning in close. "You wanna try it, son. It's a blast!"

Sam spits in his eye.

TBC


	36. 36 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 36 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean stuffs his face with a hamburger made from canned beef, dried bacon, processed cheese and every condiment in the pantry. It's pretty good. Seated at the kitchen table, he glances again at that last text message from Sam.

"Erie Lake House, huh?" He shudders. "Maybe I can nail it on the interweb?"

When he does, he can't help thinking the place suits its name. "Eerie-ass looking son of a bitch."

Two days, no Sam, no texts. Strange.

"Guess you found what you were looking for," he reasons. "Or it found you. Either way, not my freakin' beeswax."

Sure.

TBC


	37. 37 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 37 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam jerks on the ropes tying his wrists to the chair arms and growls. He isn't getting out of here anytime soon. Damn!

So, yeah, he'll be letting his good friend John down after all. John the apocryphal honest con who shared his sad story with a sympathetic ear. John the father-figure who offered an out when Sam's life turned to crap.

John handed him a way out of his loan shark spiral. John supplied the facts, Caleb, the bunker as backup. Only thing was Sam had to do all the legwork himself. But, hey, he had long legs...

TBC


	38. 38 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 38 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean's fine on his own, kinda. Two thirds of his life in the bunker, he's had plenty to keep him occupied without company under his feet. Sam staying over a few weeks shouldn't leave him feeling like an empty nester now he's gone.

But it does.

Anyway, he's not a 100% certain Sam wasn't harbouring designs on his body. He suspects he caught the douche eyeing him up a couple times. Not that the big guy ain't eye candy himself...

No! He's NOT going to think that way. Dad would have whopped his ass for even daydreaming...

Cold shower time.

TBC


	39. 39 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 39 - Then) by frostygossamer**

Pistol-whipped into silence, a gag now firmly stopping his mouth. Sam wonders why he didn't give this up after Caleb.

Caleb hadn't been so hard to find. He was in the system, but lucky John refused to give the new father to the law. When Sam rolled up to his run-down farm, bringing news from an old friend, Caleb willingly shook his hand. Only when the name 'Pastor Jim' came up did things turn sour.

"John said you could tell me something about the Pastor?" suggested Sam. Unwisely, it turned out.

Caleb's eyes grew wide. "Junior!" he yelled.

TBC


	40. 40 - Now

A/N: I'll have to finish this fic off in the next couple of weeks so I'm going to double up the chapters from now on.

**Bunkered (Part 40 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean can't help thinking about his dad. That stormy night so long ago. Where did he go?

"You stay right here till I get back."

But he never got back, did he? If Dean had known where John went to, would he have gone after him?

At eleven years old, maybe not. But he's not a kid anymore.

Jeez, he should never have dragged that giant SOB inside. Why couldn't he have left it well alone?

Dean shakes his head and makes a decision. Better get tooled up, salt, holy water, zippo.

Guess it WAS a test. One he failed.

TBC


	41. 41 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 41 - Then) by frostygossamer**

"Wish I never laid eyes on that darn priest," whined Caleb. "He's the DEVIL in a dog collar!"

There was fear in his voice when he called for his son, a hulking mook of twenty-three. Junior dropped his broom and came running. He laid into Sam with his fists, eyes angry and scared. Sam held it together until Caleb grabbed a shotgun and fired off a blast. BLAM!

Sam broke for his ride, peeling away as a second blast studded his back window. BLASH!

He ducked and swerved, barely seeing the dirt road, blood in his eyes blinding him.

TBC


	42. 42 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 42 - Then) by frostygossamer**

Dazed and fighting the wheel, the only place Sam could think to head for was John's bunker. He had a sketch map in the glovebox, and the copy key John made him in shop.

"Bless you, buddy," he mouthed, rummaging as he drove.

The place was a sanctuary, John told him. Safest place to lay low from the law or anyone. Sam could rest up, arm himself, then maybe try again. He had to keep going. His hand was already dealt. He could only call or fold. Folding wasn't an option.

He almost made it, then the ditch and blackout.

TBC


	43. 43 - Now

A/N: **N.B.** Note that I'm posting two chapters at a time since chap. 40. Be sure you're not missing parts by jumping to the last post.

**Bunkered (Part 43 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Down in the underground garage, Dean checks out the Indian Scout he used to ride in circles inside these walls. She purrs encouragingly into life. Awesome!

He fuels her up and takes a deep breath before opening the garage doors. OK, here goes.

Dean rides like a demon, avoiding towns and urban areas, taking back roads and unpaved tracks. He doesn't know what's out here and he's not going to risk running up against it. As his machine eats up the miles, he tells himself not to look behind.

He'd rather not see what's sure to be on his tail.

TBC

A/N: Yes, I'm thinking of Dorothy's machine. I couldn't find out what it was but it looks like an Indian Scout to me. Not that Dorothy has any relevance here at all BTW. And I don't know why I always seem to be putting Dean on a motorcycle.


	44. 44 - Then

A/N: Now a bit of history so we know what really happened to John.

**Bunkered (Part 44 - Then) by frostygossamer**

Now here's the thing...

It was John's old pal Caleb, out of work, new baby, who brought the bank job to John. So called 'Pastor' Jim was the mastermind of the heist, a stranger to John. An ironic alias, John guessed.

Seemed legit. Firearms for show only, no one gets hurt. John said sure, helping a buddy out.

It was going smooth as silk, when a COP showed up right on time to take a bullet and everything went to hell.

It was the Pastor pulled the trigger, cold. Cop dropped like a log. They got the hell outta there.

TBC


	45. 45 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 45 - Then) by frostygossamer**

Caleb filled John in too late.

The 'Pastor' was high on the FBI's 'most wanted' list. They knew he planned each job with military precision. If it screwed up, it was his soldiers took the fall. He was gone like smoke.

The Feds' problem was no one could be made to roll over on him. They all knew the Pastor would go after their family as payback. Women, children, he didn't care. He was a stone-cold monster.

Caleb and John both had a kid. The Pastor liked family men.

John would never have gotten involved if he had known.

TBC


	46. 46 - Then

**Bunkered (Part 46 - Then) by frostygossamer**

John's first thought was his boy. Get him someplace safe then divide up the proceeds. Book it to the border together.

Only John didn't count on the Feds springing a trap. Caleb got away. The Pastor never showed. John guessed that dirtbag dropped the dime, leaving John looking at death row.

But, thank God, the cop made it, fingering the guy in the collar. John got life instead, eventually reduced for good behaviour. He always reckoned Dean must have quit the bunker with Caleb, but the kid never visited and John regretted losing touch.

That was when Sam showed up.

TBC


	47. 47 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 47 - Now) by frostygossamer**

About 11pm, a tired Dean pulls over at a soup kitchen on the outskirts of a small community. It's run by nuns and looks safe enough.

Dean joins the line of indigents. One sister offers him a hunk of bread and a bowl of chicken broth.

"That's OK, ma'am," he says. "All I need is black coffee. Got a long journey ahead."

An elderly nun smiles kindly, handing him a mug of joe. "There you go, son. That'll hit the stop."

"Thanks," he says, marvelling at the women's naive courage.

After a half hour's rest he's back on his bike.

TBC


	48. 48 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 48 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam hates himself. He's an addict, a gambling addict. Poker, pool, anything worth a bet. It's eaten up his pay, savings, iffy loans. It's all gone, and his bookmaker's not a happy guy.

That muscleman isn't about to stop at breaking Sam's fingers. If he can't pay he's promised to break Sam's neck. And Sam can't pay.

Desperate, he opened his heart to John, one sad case to another, and John came up with a solution.

John pointed Sam to Caleb. Caleb could locate Pastor Jim, John thought. Sam would bring back John's cut and they would split it.

Simple!

TBC


	49. 49 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 49 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Pulling out onto a country road, Dean's conscious of a biker riding his wake. A Hell's Angel, long hair streaming, fiery decals adorning helmet and fairings. Dean clenches his teeth. Whatever minion of Satan this is, he WON'T be stopped.

Dean guns his engine and glues himself to the midline. The dark biker struggles to stay on his tail mile on mile.

Then - Yikes! - Dean's front wheel hits a chip. He wobbles, regains balance, brings the Indian to a swerving halt, primed for confrontation. The biker rockets on past grinning, saluting the classic machine.

"Douchewheel," Dean mutters, kicking the starter.

TBC


	50. 50 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 50 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Not so simple.

The plan was Sam would get the shark off of his back and John would use his share to find Dean.

Sam chuckles as he sits alone in that cellar waiting for death. It's funny the way he set out to save his selfish neck and wound up being the one to find Dean. And DIE. Ironic much?

Pastor Jim took his cell and his gun. Why did Sam decide to try one more place? He could have been enjoying a beer. A cold refreshing beer. Jeez, he feels so dry.

"Hey!" he croaks. No one answers.

TBC


	51. 51 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 51 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean arrives at Erie House, after two days straight driving with minimal rest stops. He parks his Indian under a gnarled tree.

The house looks exactly as he expected. Freakin' malevolent!

It's the last place Sam visited, searching for signs. What did he find? Dean will to have to see.

He checks his shotgun - salt cartridges, check - and approaches the building stealthily.

From a low-down boarded-up window, comes the faintest sound of whimpering. Probably some abandoned pup. He kneels in the dirt and peers inside. It's almost too dark in there to see, but he sees.

It's Sam!

TBC


	52. 52 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 52 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam's there, slumped on a chair, softly weeping.

"Wuss!" hisses Dean, as he grounds his shotgun and begins to remove slats from the window frame.

He slides in feet first, almost forgetting to bring along his gun. He examines Sam, freeing his wrists and ankles with a sharp knife.

Dean jerks the gag from the guy's mouth and he moans miserably. "W-water..."

"It's OK, Sam," Dean whispers. "Gonna get you outta here."

Slipping one arm around Sam's waist, he starts to lift him to his shaky feet. Then the door whams open, shuddering on its hinges.

"NOT. SO. FAST!"

TBC


	53. 53 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 53 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean got his education out of the books in the bunker.

Everything he knows about the supernatural and its lore he learned from a whole BUNCH of weird-ass occult texts in that library, some of them over one hundred years old. He has no clue why John's people would have amassed all those sought after rare editions. Because they're like gold?

So he's come prepared for every eventuality. Salt, fire, self-blessed holy water, silver, spells, incantations.

What he isn't prepared for is the thrill that runs down his spine at the sound of that fiend's voice behind him.

TBC


	54. 54 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 54 - Now) by frostygossamer**

"Not so fast!"

Dean spins around. Pastor Jim stands framed in the doorway, his raggedy lace gown billowing around him, silver hair floating on the air, nostrils flaring, eyeballs bulging. He looks the demon he really is.

Dean has been waiting for this moment for 23 years.

Without hesitation, he lets go Sam and gives the phantasm both barrels, dead in the chest. BAM!

The Pastor screams as he's flung backward by the blast, landing in a corner like a broken rag doll.

Dean centres himself and returns to the problem of getting Sam out of that ghastly hole ASAP.

TBC


	55. 55 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 55 - Now) by frostygossamer**

They make it up a short flight of stairs, along the hall and right to the front door. On the floor by the hallstand there are two calfskin suitcases. One bulges with clothes hurriedly packed. The other's bound tight with a leather strap. The Pastor was getting ready to skip town.

"Lemme just grab it," rasps Sam.

Dean kicks the locked door open and they stagger through into the tangled front yard. They're halfway to Dean's bike when a bullet whistles past his ear. They duck into the unkempt grass.

"What the HELL kinda phantom is this thing?" he breathes.

TBC


	56. 56 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 56 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Pastor Jim stands in the doorway, a rifle in his hands. He has them both in his crosshairs, pinning them down behind the old tree.

"Damn it!" Dean snaps. "Why won't that sucker stay dead? We gotta burn its godforsaken bones."

Sam snickers and coughs. "That douche's bones are ice. Man, we need a freakin' diversion."

"Got an idea," says Dean, checking in his saddlebag.

He retrieves an old glass pop bottle of regular holy oil and a cotton handkerchief. He bobs up to throw the holy firebomb and gets a bullet nick in the shoulder for his pains.

"OUCH!"

TBC


	57. 57 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 57 - Now) by frostygossamer**

The Molotov cocktail arches through the air and smashes against the doorstep, igniting the dry boards of the porch. The fire swirls in the cold wind, catching the Pastor's hem. He shrieks and lurches around, desperately stomping overwhelming flames.

Wincing from the pain in his shoulder, Dean gets Sam on the motorcycle behind him and they burn rubber.

As soon as they're far enough away, Sam wants to stop and make a phone call.

"Uh, FBI hotline?" he asks. "Got a hot tip on the location of a 'person of interest'."

Dean scowls. Since when did the Feds hunt supernaturals?

TBC


	58. 58 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 58 - Now) by frostygossamer**

It's dawn when they finally pull over at a gas station and diner. Dean is circumspect but Sam is weak and badly needs to drink and maybe eat a little. _Momma's Kitchen_ sounds cool.

Sam absorbs two glasses of cold water and greedily starts in on his eggs and toast. Dean picks at his breakfast. He's not used to fresh food.

After his second plateful, Sam puts down his fork and assumes a serious expression.

"Dean, there's something you oughta know," he says, gravely.

Dean leans closer. "You gonna tell me that waitress is a succubus? 'Cause I kinda guessed."

TBC


	59. 59 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 59 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam shakes his head. "It's about your father."

Dean exhales. Staring down at his plate, he braces himself.

"That was the devil that took my dad, right?"

Sam places a comforting hand on Dean's arm.

"Dean," he begins, haltingly. "You're dad's not dead."

Dean chokes. He feels like he's been punched in the gut. He throws Sam's hand off, angry.

"He's not dead?" he loudly demands, drawing everyone's attention. "Then where the freakin' hell was he all my life?"

Sam leans forward and speaks gently. "Dean, he didn't run out on you. He's was in PRISON."

Dean's mouth falls open.

TBC


	60. 60 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 60 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam plows on. "You see, first of all, the 'supernatural' doesn't exist. Second of all, your dad-"

Dean cuts Sam off. "Are you actually crazy? Or is this- This is a joke, right?"

"Evil exists, Dean. Only it's not... magic. OK?"

Dean stares at him. Sam's stomping all over his whole philosophy.

"That thing," he growls, pointing back where they came from, "is evil. Or don't you remember being tied to a CHAIR and left to STARVE for, what, four five days?"

Sam nods. "Sure. But the thing is, your dad wasn't taken by bogeymen, Dean. Just the LAW."

TBC


	61. 61 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 61 - Now) by frostygossamer**

"Yeah, and you would know," grumbles Dean, dismissively.

Sam makes eye contact across the diner table.

"I know because I was a newbie, first day inside, outta my depth, and John took pity on me. We bonded the short time I was there. He opened up to me."

Dean snorts. So Sam is nothing but a crook too? Why is he not surprised?

"Their deal was Caleb would bring you BOTH from the bunker. John believed you were with Caleb. When he NEVER heard from you again, dude, he thought you'd abandoned him."

"Abandoned him?" grunts Dean. "He abandoned ME!"

TBC


	62. 62 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 62 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean starts up. Sam grabs his arm, pulling him back down.

"John's a GOOD guy, Dean. I came to him DESPERATE. He gave me HELP... directions to the bunker, a key. Woulda split his cut, right down the middle. Dude... I'm the douchebag. I planned to grab the whole freakin' enchilada and RUN."

Dean's eyes narrow. "Son of a BITCH," he hisses.

Yanking back his arm, Dean storms out the diner. The growl of his Indian pulling away pains Sam's ears. Sam hauls the case onto his lap. Neat rows of safely laundered bills.

They're worth nothing to him now.

TBC


	63. 63 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 63 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean rides the whole way back home with hatred boiling in his heart. Things may be safer outside now, but Dean has nothing left to believe in. Back inside the bunker, he shuts the door and locks out the world like before.

He doesn't need it.

He pours himself a stiff drink and drops in an armchair, rubbing his shoulder, cursing himself.

"You're a freakin' bonehead, Dean Winchester," he snarls.

Thundering downstairs to the bedroom level, he goes in Sam's room and totally wrecks it. Then he throws himself on Sam's bed, exhausted.

The pillow still smells like Sam's hair.

TBC


	64. 64 - Now

**Bunkered (Part 64 - Now) by frostygossamer**

Sam tries to stay away. He really does. He has his money and, down in Mexico, he could start a new life. A safe life.

That was always the plan, right?

But that was before he found the bunker, the safest place on Earth. So who needs Mexico?

It was like running from a thunderstorm and finding an amazing cavern to shelter in from the pouring rain.

Only this cavern already belongs to a grizzly bear.

Not that Dean's exactly a grizzly. Inside, he's a pussycat. And he's a pussycat that Sam could learn to love.

Maybe he already has.

TBC


	65. 65 - Right Now

**Bunkered (Part 65 - Right Now) by frostygossamer**

It's a week later when Sam shows up at the bunker entrance, his face pressed against the camera that watches the entryway.

Dean swiftly pulls the plug on the monitor. "Get outta here, douche!" he snarls.

But Sam's prepared to be persistent.

"Dean! Lemme in!" he calls out, rapping on the solid door. "Dean! You gotta let me in."

He waits a half hour before he opens the door with John's key. Dean's standing right inside with a shotgun in his hands.

"Didn't think I'd remember you had a key?" he asks, dryly.

THIS time he ain't packing rock salt.

TBC


	66. 66 - Right Now

**Bunkered (Part 66 - Right Now) by frostygossamer**

Standing out front of the bunker, Sam holds up his hands.

"Dean, just listen to me. I took the money to John in Topeka. He's out on parole. Man, he wants to see you."

"Awesome," snaps Dean. "Now go to hell." He gestures with his gun.

Sam isn't comfortable with the barrel pointed his way, but he's sworn he'd do this.

"Put down the gun, Dean. I wanna talk, but not with that in my face."

Dean lowers the weapon and grunts, "Oughta blast a freakin' hole in your snaky-ass heart."

Sam nods. "I agree." ...Then he grabs him.

TBC

A/N: A little late. Very busy day yesterday.


	67. 67 - Right Now

**Bunkered (Part 67 - Right Now) by frostygossamer**

Pressed against Dean, Sam crushes his lips on that rosebud mouth murmuring, "I need you to fix me."

Dean shoves him away bodily, takes a step back, raises his gun.

Sam follows, crowding him against the doorframe, insisting, "You need ME to fix YOU."

Dean lands a punch right on his sharp nose, sending him reeling backward into the rough grass. Sam touches his face. Blood. Dean stands over him, shotgun loose in one hand.

"You're a liar and a crook," he growls.

He stoops and grabs Sam by the scruff, dragging up his head, slamming his mouth against Sam's.

TBC


	68. 68 - Right Now

**Bunkered (Part 68 - Right Now) by frostygossamer**

After breathless seconds, Dean releases Sam. He's shoved the tall guy hard against the steps. In the open. Kind of an exposed position.

"You make me act crazy, you know that? Oughta leave you to the freakin' darkness. What you deserve."

Sam can't dispute what he has coming, but it sounds like Dean's still riding that old supernatural horse.

"Dude, there is no dar-" He stops himself.

Only semantics. Sure, it's one word for what's out there, the temptations of a modern world with twisted values. Temptations that Sam fell prey too once already.

He nods. "You got me."

TBC


	69. 69 - Right Now

**Bunkered (Part 69 - Right Now) by frostygossamer**

Dean's still conflicted about Sam.

"So tell me, Sammy, why would I let some douchy jailhouse scumbag in my life?"

"I'm a loser, Dean, but no douchebag." Sam climbs to his feet. "I was John's Prison Counselor."

A bare improvement. Dean crows. "Better be the last bullcrap revelation you come out with."

"If it helps, I was a crappy counselor," offers Sam, dusting himself down.

Inwardly, Dean's relieved the 'outside' didn't just swallow Sam up. He pushes him indoors.

"OK, counselor, lay your guiding hands on me. See where that goes, huh?"

The heavy bunker door swings shut behind them.

TBC


	70. 70 - Postscript

**Bunkered (Part 70 - Postscript) by frostygossamer**

So this is how it ends? Dean winds up with a giant playmate to share his toy fort, reunion with his dad on the horizon? Everything fairytale perfect?

But how easily will Sam convince Dean the 'outside' isn't demon-occupied territory? Will he introduce him to the delights of the modern world? Or will his gambling addiction tempt him back to his old ways?

Can Dean find it in his heart to accept John, his hero, as a common felon?

There could yet be mileage to their story.

Meanwhile, hear that laughter drifting from the shower room.

Innocent? For now...

The End

A/N: Unfortunately real life forces me to hiatus this fic for now, due to a prior appointment with the NHS. Hopefully I may return to it, or start a sequel, when I feel better. Keep your eyes peeled.


End file.
